At first, it seemed fun. Or at least, an efficient way for a vengeful Old Testament god to smite them both with a single bolt of lightning. But now it has become less laughable than disturbing, like receiving repeated obscene phone call from Fozzie Bear.

At her recent fashion show (She's a designer? Quick! Someone get Jose Reyes a job giving bus tours of Tuscany because, um, what?!?), Lavigne made it known to people of all races, religions, and creeds that she will be creating her own wedding dress and that it will be "badass."

For realsies? It's important to have something in common with a mate, but Geiger-counter-melting levels of horribleness is generally something to avoid. However, Avril Lavigne and the Nickelback guy don't seem to realize that they are behind some of the most nakedly depressing sounds since your grandmother's heart monitor flatlined.

Fashion Week is hectic and no one must have had time to mention to Avril that she and the Nickelback guy are not quite "badass." Either that or the pool reporter tailing Lavigne this election season made a typo and what she really said is that her dress will be bad-comma-ass.

It's possible that the couple, who are making Sheriff Joe Arpaio turn his back on Mexico and start looking towards Canada, know just what a gut-churning match they are; like the parasite-eating shrimp that symbiotically coexist with moray eels, they have have come to terms with being made for each other.

But what about us? Can't we be spared this nonsense? This is Avril's grand plan:

"It might be something that I buy a few different dresses and rip them up and put them all together and dye them."